Smidvarg
by Cke1st
Summary: The life and times of a certain small white dragon, and the events of "When Darkness Falls" as seen through his eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**Smidvarg** Chapter 1

_A/N  
Over the past couple of years, many reviewers have asked my opinion about "Race to the Edge." I've always told them the same thing: I'm apparently the only HTTYD fan who doesn't have Netflix, so I haven't seen it, and I'll have to wait until it comes out on DVD. Well, the first four seasons are out on DVD, I've got them, and this story is the first-fruits of that._

_The idea for this little story hit me while thinking about a totally unrelated batch of dragons (namely, the Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey). I'm making it up as I go along, without a coherent plan or plot, just a general overview. It's both a prequel and an alternate point-of-view retelling of the RTTE episode "When Darkness Falls."__ We'll see how it turns out._

**o**

From the moment he hatched, it was obvious to everyone that he was destined to be different.

His father, Terror-with-a-gray-spot, couldn't help but notice his son's pale-white color. He frowned. "White? _White?_ What kind of color is that for a Night Terror?"

"I'm sure it'll darken as he gets older," his mate, Terror-bent-tail, tried to reassure him.

Terror-with-a-gray-spot shook his head resignedly. "Maybe. Or maybe it's a sign that he'll be the next Alpha. Or, more likely, he'll be picked on and teased for his whole life. I hope that doesn't happen, but you know how dragons can be." He sighed. "This kind of thing never happened on _my_ side of the family."

His parents called him Terror-white until they could think of a better name, but a better name never came to them. Among young dragons, differences like those didn't matter. His normally-colored brother and two sisters, who hatched at the same time he did, thought nothing of his unusual coloration; he was just their brother, and that was that. Other young dragons would meet him and say something like, "Hey, you're white! Want to play tag?" And they'd play all night. That was what young Night Terrors always did, and young Terror-white's color didn't change that. The only exception was if they played hide-and-go-fly. Terror-white preferred to be "it" when they played that game, because hiding at night was nearly impossible for him.

The first sign of his destiny came during one of those games of hide-and-go-fly. Terror-white was "it," as usual, and much practice had made him good at the game. He had also made a point of learning all the likely hiding places on their island, so he could usually find the less imaginative dragons in the first five minutes. But this time, half a dozen of his friends had somehow eluded him. He'd looked everywhere! He honestly had no idea where they could be hiding. He was on the verge of doing something he almost never did: give up.

But his frustration boiled up inside of him. Instead of shouting, "I quit! You win," which was the prescribed way to admit he'd been beaten, he angrily shouted, "All of you, fly up and show yourselves!" To his complete astonishment, all six of his hidden foes flew straight upwards out of the leafy tree they'd hidden in. At the same time, all of his friends whom he'd already found also flew straight up into the air.

"What are you guys doing?" Terror-white asked, puzzled.

"How did you _do_ that?" his friends demanded.

"All I said was, 'fly up and show yourselves!' " Terror-white said defensively. "Why did you all do it?"

"I don't know," they said, one after the other. "I just felt like I had to do it."

"Well, I guess that game is over," Terror-white shrugged. "Let's play something else." He didn't think much about the episode. But it bothered some of the other young dragons. They told their parents about it when they gathered as families to sleep the day away. That night, the moon had barely begun to show itself when the nest's Alpha, Terror-pale-blue, approached Terror-white's family.

"Tell me what happened last night," he ordered the young dragon.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked fearfully.

"What's going on, son?" his father demanded. "Whatever it is, we need to know the whole story." So Terror-white told them about the game of hide-and-go-fly, and how he'd gotten frustrated when he couldn't win, and how all the dragons had obeyed the order he'd shouted out.

The Alpha looked thoughtful. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Terror-white had no idea. "Does it mean the other dragons won't play hide-and-go-fly with me anymore?"

"No!" his mother burst out proudly. "It means your father was right about what he said when you hatched! It means you're going to be an Alpha dragon!"

"An Alpha? _Me?"_ Terror-white wasn't ready for that.

"Your mother is right," Terror-with-a-gray-spot nodded with the beginnings of a smile. "The ability to command other dragons and compel their obedience is the first and most important sign that a dragon is destined to be an Alpha."

When Terror-white looked lost, the Alpha added. "That means you can tell other dragons what to do, in a way that makes them do it. Only an Alpha dragon can do that. Every nest has an Alpha, but we Night Terrors need our Alphas more than most dragons do. If our Alpha can't get the flock to look like a huge dragon when we're attacked, then the big predators will tear us apart. You are going to be a very special dragon."

"Oh." The young Terror nodded hesitantly, then looked even more nervous. "Does that mean I have to fight you for dominance?"

"No, not today!" the Alpha said with a chuckle. "You're much too young and too small to be a threat to me. By the time you're old enough and strong enough to try and take my position, you'll probably do the smart thing and leave this nest, and find another nest that needs an Alpha and doesn't have one. For now, you need to work with me and learn to master your ability. An untrained, undisciplined Alpha is almost as bad as no Alpha at all." He turned to Terror-with-a-gray-spot and Terror-bent-tail. "With your permission, I'd like to take your son as my apprentice and teach him how to become an Alpha someday."

"We'd be honored," Terror-with-a-gray-spot said without a moment's hesitation, and his mate nodded.

Thus began Terror-white's formal education in the mysteries of dragon leadership. No one knew why some dragons had the innate ability to command others. It was a rare ability, and much prized among dragons, especially the Night Terrors, whose very survival depended on their Alpha's ability to command them in flight. Terror-pale-blue was not a particularly skillful teacher, which surprised no one, inasmuch as he had never had a student before. But some skills cannot be taught, only honed and improved, and no one but another Alpha could guide that process.

As for Terror-white, he was reluctant at first. He had always been different because of his coloration, but most of the dragons were willing to overlook that. Now he was becoming different in a way that none of them could ignore. In order to test his abilities and his control, the Alpha made him give orders to parts of the flock. The dragons willingly accepted orders from their Alpha, but who was this pale young Alpha wannabe who was suddenly bossing them around? Terror-white soon found himself a social outcast. None of his former friends wanted to play with him anymore. The adults resented his heavy-handed attempts to control their formations while they were flying. He spent time with the Alpha because no one else wanted him around.

As he grew more practiced, he took his future responsibility very seriously. He learned not to push individual dragons too hard; he didn't try to force the slow fliers to keep up with the others, but simply gave them the places in the formation that formed up last. If one of his unscheduled form-the-giant-dragon drills came at a bad time, he apologized to all the dragons who were involved. He was soon acting more mature than many dragons twice his age, and the change did not go unnoticed. Many of the other dragons were still uncomfortable around him, but they no longer made excuses to go elsewhere the moment he appeared. His parents no longer hung their heads and made excuses for their misfit son; now they were visibly proud of him.

Time passed; Terror-white became a yearling with no sign that his color was darkening; and the Night Terrors went through another round of mating and laying eggs. As sometimes happened, one family had a miscolored hatchling. This one had white scales randomly scattered all over his black body. Someone suggested that he looked like he had specks of sea salt on him after an ocean bath, and he soon became known as Terror-salty. He was an aggressive little dragon who dominated all the games his friends played. The Alpha watched him carefully; he knew that miscolored dragons were especially likely to possess Alpha gifts. His suspicions were soon confirmed.

"You've got to do something about that Terror-salty!" an indignant mother protested one day. "He lost a race to my daughter, and he told her to go soak her head in a tide pool... and she did it! She says it was a stupid idea and she didn't want to do it, but she did it anyway. She couldn't stop herself. My daughter never did stupid stuff like that before, and I won't allow her to be treated that way just because she's the fastest flyer in her age group!"

"I'll take care of it," the Alpha promised, and he soon had two apprentices instead of one. Terror-white was more experienced by a year, and naturally had better control over his power. Terror-salty's stronger will promised to yield better control over the flock, once he learned how to apply his will properly. Both apprentices showed promise; if the Alpha had had to choose a successor at that point, he would have been hard-put to prefer one over the other. But the younger dragon saw the situation as a competition of some kind. He was determined to be their Alpha's number-one apprentice. He constantly tested his control over the other Night Terrors, to the point where he was disrupting the normal rhythms of the nest, calling up their giant-dragon formation in the middle of fishing time, sleeping time, and (in one unfortunate case) one couple's mating flight. Terror-pale-blue had to restrict him to using his power only while supervised. But he couldn't maintain supervision over an unruly Alpha trainee and meet all of his other Alpha obligations at the same time. His solution was to put Terror-white in charge of Terror-salty's basic training.

Bad idea. Really, _really_ bad idea.

The younger dragon ran roughshod over his slightly-older supervisor. "You're not the boss!" he repeatedly told Terror-white. "We're both in training, so you aren't any better than me! Don't give me orders, Pale-scale!"

"But the Alpha said -"

Terror-salty made a gagging noise. "Someday, _I_ am going to be the Alpha, and then _I'll_ tell _you_ what to do!" he snapped. "If you're smart, you'll stay out of my way. If you're stupid, then you'll fight me for dominance, and I'll probably injure you for life. Either way, I don't care what _you_ think, Pale-scale!"

These disruptions and disagreements didn't escape the Alpha's eye. He kept meaning to do something about it. But this year's hatching had brought an unusually large number of new dragons into the flock, and they needed more guidance and supervision than normal. Every time he meant to address the conflict between his two apprentices, something more urgent came up, and he never quite got around to it. The flock was suffering for it, to say nothing of Terror-white. But nothing ever got done about it... right up until the awful night when the Alpha flew too close to the surface while tracking a school of herring, and a fast-moving tuna got him.

When the flock's initial shock began to wear off, Terror-salty tried to take charge. "As you all know, I was Terror-pale-blue's first choice to be his replacement someday, and so I -"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Terror-bent-tail interrupted. "He never said anything of the kind! In fact, I think my son was -"

"Be quiet, you!" Terror-salty ordered. Terror-bent-tail felt her mouth snap shut and she couldn't open it again.

_"What?!"_ Terror-white wasn't looking for trouble, but he was angry now. "You can't do that! That's not what the Alpha power is for! That's abusive!"

"What are you going to do about it, Pale-scale?" Terror-salty snarled. "Are you challenging me?"

Terror-white emphatically did _not_ want to fight. Not only was fighting against his nature; he suspected that his rival would cheat somehow. But he'd been taught by Terror-pale-blue that the nest needs the security and guidance that only a benevolent Alpha can provide. Maybe his friends didn't want to play with him anymore; maybe some of the adults still mistrusted him; but he knew he'd be a better Alpha for them than Terror-salty would be. He had the power that his nest needed. He owed it to them to be their Alpha. Backing off was an option he could not choose.

"Yes, I challenge," he quavered.

"Good!" his rival grinned. "In the end, there can be only one!" He rushed at Terror-white, jaws wide open. That was too obvious a ploy; Terror-white expected it to be a feint, and he was right. At the last moment, Terror-salty pulled up and to the left while reaching out with his hind leg to rake Terror-white's wing with his claws. Terror-white folded his wings for a moment and ducked under the blow.

"Ha! First blood!" Terror-salty shouted. "I win!" The other dragons began to crowd around to see if he had dispatched his foe already. Some began to cheer for him.

"Liar!" Terror-white shouted back. "You can see there isn't a drop of blood on me!" For the first time in his life, he was glad for his unusual coloration. Blood on a black wing might be hard to see; blood on a white wing couldn't be hidden. The cheers died away. The two combatants circled each other, looking for an opening.

"Now you can see what kind of Alpha you'll get if you choose Terror-Salty," Terror-white called to the rest of the flock. "He's abusive, he's a liar, and all he cares about is himself."

"Be quiet!" Terror-salty ordered in a commanding tone.

Terror-white could have grinned if the situation wasn't so serious. "Your power doesn't work on another Alpha! Did you forget about that? Maybe I should add 'ignorant' to the list of your disqualifiers."

"Hey, you!" Terror-salty called to a nearby Night Terror. "Bite his tail and make him hold still!" The dragon obediently closed in on Terror-white from behind. The white dragon climbed and spun away from the ambush. Terror-salty ordered other dragons to bite his rival's tail; Terror-white quickly found himself surrounded in all directions except straight up. He desperately rushed upwards, trying to gain height so he could think of some kind of attack plan.

But what could he do? Terror-salty was breaking every principle of Alpha-hood, manipulating individual dragons for his own benefit. Terror-white had the power to do that if he chose, but it would violate his training, his principles, and his own sense of right and wrong. Could he live with himself if he did that? Was the position of Alpha worth it?

No.

He kept climbing, but slowly curved over until he was headed out to sea, turning his back on the only home he'd ever known. He had no destination in mind; he didn't even know if he was headed toward any other land. He just had to get away from this unwinnable fight. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder. Terror-salty was accepting the reluctant plaudits of the other dragons; they had a new Alpha now, for better or for worse. He thought he could see his father and mother sadly waving 'goodbye' with their wings. They knew they would never see him again.

The new Alpha took a quick break from his gloating to glance up at his fleeing rival. "Keep flying, Pale-scale! Failure! Loser! If you ever come back, we'll kill you!"

Terror-white kept flying. Soon, his home island was out of sight; there was nothing but water. For most of his life, he had felt alone. Now, he really _was_ alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Smidvarg** Chapter 2

The Night Terror dragon known as Terror-white didn't feel very terrifying. Yesterday, he had been one step away from becoming his flock's Alpha. He didn't precisely crave that role, but he knew it was his destiny. Today, he was a homeless wanderer with no flock and no future. Another Alpha candidate had staged a coup and taken over the flock, and Terror-white had fled to save his life. He was still fleeing, but he didn't know where he was going, or what he would do when he got there. All he knew was that his once-promising future had taken a turn for the worse, much worse.

He saw a tiny islet off in the distance to the right. It was rocky, with no plant life except seaweed along the edges. He probably would find no hiding place there, especially with his light-colored hide against the dark-colored rocks. But he needed to rest; his kind were strong flyers, but he was still a young dragon and his stamina was not fully developed. He landed, found a lighter-colored patch of rock where his own color wouldn't stand out so strongly, and curled up to sleep.

He was awakened a few hours later by a spray of cold water in his face. The wind was picking up, and the waves were pummeling the shores of his little island with unusual force, splashing the entire islet. He was in no danger of drowning, but he'd get no rest here, either. He figured out which way was downwind, made sure he wasn't going back the way he came, and resumed flying.

Over the next few weeks, he visited numerous islands. Some were inhabited only by humans and their livestock. He left those islands strictly alone; humans tended to shoot at dragons first and not even bother asking questions later. Other islands were nests for the larger dragons. He left those alone, too; many dragons wouldn't hesitate to eat a Night Terror for a quick snack. He even found an island with both humans _and_ dragons on it, including one black dragon of a type he'd never seen before. He didn't know how the two species worked out their joint ownership of the island, but no matter how they did it, that island was double trouble for a small dragon like him. He took a long detour around that one.

His ultimate goal was to find another flock of Night Terrors, preferably one that needed an Alpha. If he couldn't find one of those, then an island with no other large living things at all would be a fair substitute. He could rest there in the daytime, fish at night, and stay alive long enough to plan his next move. He had no luck in finding either kind of island, so his nomadic existence went on and on. He would find a promising place, find a spot to sleep, begin to relax, and within a day or two, he'd find something (or something would find him) that made him realize he couldn't stay.

He was in no danger of starvation; he was a good enough fisher to have no fears in that department. But, as a small dragon in a very big world, it was only a matter of time until something large and hungry caught him from behind. The only real solution to that problem was to be part of a flock of dragons, with eyes watching in all directions so nobody could be ambushed. His endless vigilance had saved him several times already, but some of his survival could be attributed only to luck, and he knew that no one's luck could remain good forever.

It was nearly midnight when he found his latest hope for a home. This island was low and flat on one side, with plenty of short trees, while the other half was a bare rocky plateau. The overgrown side seemed to offer a better hope for a hiding place, so he angled down in that direction. He was still a hundred wing-lengths from the shore when he saw movement above the trees. But he couldn't see anything in particular in the darkness, just motion. To him, that could mean only one thing: dark-colored dragons. Night Terrors?

He called out, "Hello! Wait for me!" Instantly, the motion scattered in six different directions. His heart sank. Then the motion came back together... and scattered again. He realized that they were trying to wait for him without becoming motionless. That suggested Night Terrors ahead, and it also suggested predators nearby. He quickly looked behind himself. There was nothing there. He continued on his course until the motion resolved itself into six Night Terrors, four males and two females, flying in a rough circle around him.

"You're a Night Terror... but you're all white!" the largest female exclaimed.

"Yeah, I noticed that, too," he said drily.

"Are you an Alpha?" added a male who had to be the female's mate.

"I was an Alpha in training, before I had to leave my flock," he admitted. "Where is the rest of _this_ flock?

"We're all that's left," the female said sadly. "Big fish and Changewings got all the rest. The Changewings haven't been back in weeks; maybe this fragment of a flock is too small to interest them. Can you help us?"

"I'm not sure what kind of help I can give," Terror-white said slowly. "I can form us into a formation, but seven little dragons won't fool anyone. I'll be glad to join your flock, just so you'll have one more set of eyes looking out for trouble, if you'll have me."

"A white dragon at night would draw attention," a smaller female said. "You might be more of a hindrance than a help."

"But he's an Alpha!" the male shot back. "How could an Alpha dragon be a problem?"

"He _says_ he's an Alpha," the small female retorted. "But is he, really?"

"I can prove that easily enough," Terror-white decided. "Vertical circle!" Rearranging a half-dozen dragons was much easier than controlling a huge flock. He did just what he always did - visualize the formation he wanted, then blink and send out the thought...

In moments, the horizontal ring of dragons around him turned into a vertical ring. Night Terrors never flew in that formation, so it was a convincing proof that he'd made it happen, rather than it being a coincidence. "Yup, he's an Alpha," the large female stated firmly. "So... now that you're in charge here, what do we do next?"

Terror-white wasn't ready for that. "Well... first off, please show me how you've been doing things around here. I need to know where you sleep, where the good fishing grounds are, where the Changewings come from... stuff like that."

"Gladly!" the male said. It didn't take long; their sleeping arrangements could be boiled down to "everyone has their own tree where they can't be seen from above." The fish were not very plentiful near the island, so to avoid hunger, they either had to fly for a mile or more to better fishing grounds, or supplement their diets by flying open-mouthed through the swarms of insects that rose every night during the spring and summer. Both habits left them vulnerable to larger dragons and other predators, which was why their numbers had fallen to almost nothing. Their former Alpha had been picked off by a Changewing that had camouflaged itself against an ocean wave until the last moment, and the rest of the flock hadn't done well after that.

"So," said the smaller female in a much more pleasant tone, "what happens next?"

"If you don't mind," Terror-white answered, "I'd like to stay here for a while. It's been months since I was in a place that I could call 'home.' But our end-game is to move on until we find a really big flock to join, so we'll be safe."

"Is there such a flock?" the larger female asked.

"There _has_ to be," he answered firmly. "I came from a flock like that, and you used to belong to a flock like that. You can't convince me that there are only two big flocks of us in this area. There _must_ be more. It's just a question of finding one."

"That works for me," the larger female decided, and the others nodded. Just like that, he became the Alpha of his own tiny flock.

For the next three weeks, they settled into a pleasant routine of fishing at night and sleeping during the daytime. There weren't many insects to eat at this time of year, and Terror-white was opposed in principle to the idea of flying high in the air without being able to form a giant-dragon formation if predators arrived. They all lived on fish instead. The others listened to the story of his life so far, and he learned more about the flock that used to live here. It felt good, knowing that the others counted on him to make the right decisions for them now, and that he was finally fulfilling his destiny, even if the dragons of his flock could be counted on his foreclaws with a few left over.

Something else that felt good was knowing that the small female, Terror-ate-a-moth, was growing fond of him. (She'd gotten her name during one of those insect-eating flights; while aiming for a mouthful of swarming bugs, she'd accidentally inhaled a good-sized moth and nearly choked on it.) He was still too young for a mating flight, but if he could keep her (and himself) alive until the spring, he knew he would have a willing partner.

There came a night when Terror-ate-a-moth swooped down towards a likely-looking fish, then screamed and bounded straight upwards. There was a great splash where she had been a moment before. "What happened?" Terror-white asked as he rushed to her side.

"Sh- sh- _shark!"_ she blurted out, terrified.

"I saw it," the larger female added as she joined them. "It came straight up at her from below. I'm amazed that she saw it in time to dodge it."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Mostly," she admitted. About an inch and a half was missing off the end of one of her tail spines. That had to hurt, but it wasn't a crippling injury.

After making sure that all the dragons were all right, Terror-white made his decision. "These are our best fishing grounds, but if a clever shark is hanging around here, then we can't fish here anymore. I think we should grab a few smaller fish from the shallows around our island, get a good day's sleep, and then start looking for our forever-flock."

"You're the Alpha," Terror-ate-a-moth agreed, "and I have _definitely_ had enough of these waters!" They got a few mouthfuls from the shallows, enjoyed one last day of rest, and set off across the sea in search of an island that was home to more of their kind.

Terror-white warned them that it might take weeks, even months, to find the place they were looking for. They nodded, but they obviously hoped he was wrong. To his amazement, it took eight days and three islands before they approached a place that looked perfect for their kind.

"It has lots of trees to hide in during the day," he observed.

"It's big enough to support a good-sized flock," his future mate noticed.

"And there's deep water right offshore," he concluded, "so we shouldn't have to fly very far to find big schools of fish. Even if there aren't any other Night Terrors here, we should stay for a while, just because it's a wonderful place." He was the Alpha, so that settled it. They descended toward the trees.

"Hey, we're not alone here!" the large female suddenly shouted. "There's a Night Terror in that tree!"

"And that one as well!" her mate added.

"Do I know you?" came a Night-Terror-like voice from the nearest tree.

"No, we're survivors from other flocks," Terror-white began, "and we're -"

"Yes, I _do_ know you!" the dragon in the tree shouted as he showed himself.

"Father!" the white dragon burst out, unbelieving. They rushed together. Other Night Terrors stirred in the nearby trees. At first, they complained about someone ruining their good day's sleep, but when they heard that a family reunion was happening, they joined the party. Soon, a swarm of Night Terrors hundreds strong was whirling around at low altitude. Terror-white's mother quickly found her son from the far side of the swarm, and and two of his sisters joined the reunion as well.

"So... what are you guys doing here?" Terror-white finally asked. "I didn't go in a big circle and wind up where I started, did I?"

"No," Terror-with-a-gray-spot said with a touch of sadness. "We had a flock split. Terror-salty was running us into the ground with endless drills and formations -"

"Mostly to show off his power!" Terror-bent-tail added bitterly.

"...and, one or two at a time, we all realized that we couldn't last very long that way," his father continued. "We finally confronted him and demanded that he stop abusing us. When he asked what we were going to do about it, we threatened to leave. He said he wouldn't let us do that, and we'd be stupid to take off into the wilderness without an Alpha anyway. So we all took off, just to show him who was the stupid one. He was powerful enough to hold onto about one-third of the flock; the rest of us made a clean getaway. We searched for weeks until we found this island."

"It's perfect for us!" his sister chimed in.

"Yes, it is," Terror-with-a-gray-spot nodded. "It has everything a flock of Night Terrors needs."

"Except an Alpha dragon," his mother said with a knowing look.

Terror-white gulped. The reality of his situation hit him as he glanced at the hundreds and hundreds of Night Terrors swirling around him. If Terror-salty couldn't hold onto these dragons, could he really do any better? But they needed him. They needed the safety that they could find only through his special ability. Besides, he wasn't going to hold them against their will; he would merely adjust their flying positions in time of crisis. They wouldn't resist him when he did that.

A male he'd never seen before buzzed him from above. "Did you say the white one is an Alpha dragon?" The others heard the words "Alpha dragon," and the word spread quickly. Now they were all focused on him.

"Do you want me to show you what I can do?" he asked the nearest ones.

"Yes," they answered. "We need to see if you can really lead us before we call you our Alpha."

"We can vouch for him," Terror-ate-a-moth cut in. "We've seen him in action. He's the real deal."

"The flock will still feel better if we see him in action ourselves," his father said. "Some of us know what you can do, but the whole flock should be fully convinced. We get more unity that way."

"All righty, then! Giant dragon formation!" He hadn't done one of those in months, but he knew that was what the flock wanted to see. He visualized what _he_ wanted to see, then blinked and sent out the thought. He watched as the other dragons formed up; if one seemed to be slower than the others, he redirected that one to the tail, which would be the last part of the formation to appear. The faster flyers, he sent to the wings so they could "flap," and he remembered to take his own place as the "eye" of the giant "dragon." It took about three seconds. Once they were formed up, he had the "wings" spread to their full span, and the "mouth" opened and let out a bellow that was actually the amplified roar of a hundred small dragons. He smiled. He hadn't lost his touch. They would gladly accept him as their Alpha now.

Like all the Night Terrors, he was focused on his formation and the dragons nearest to him. If he had looked down, he might have seen a young human with a four-horned helmet and a chicken at his feet staring up through the trees at them wide-eyed and gasping, "Oh... my... Thor!" But the young man passed unnoticed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Smidvarg** Chapter 3

Terror-white looked down on his new island home with a degree of hope he hadn't felt in months. He and his mini-flock had finally found a place where Night Terrors would be right at home... and had also found a much larger flock who were already at home, and who welcomed them with open wings! All they needed was an Alpha dragon to help them protect themselves against predators. That was his job, and after a long time of self-doubt, he was ready to face up to his destiny. The fact that several members of his family had escaped from his old flock to help create the new one was a nice bonus. He even had a potential mate. Everything in his life was looking good, for the first time _ever_. What could possibly go wrong?

He checked out their giant-dragon formation. It wasn't quite as dense as the formations he'd led in his home nest, but considering that this flock was about 2/3 the size of that flock, that was understandable. It looked solid enough to fool the Changewings, which were voracious and clever but which couldn't see details at a distance. It could probably fool other dragon types as well, but there wasn't much chance of bumping into any...

Uh-oh.

"What are those things in the meadow over there?" he asked. The formation wavered as the Night Terrors' concentration shifted from looking like a dragon to looking for trouble.

"They look like dragons," his mother quavered. "Big ones. It looks like you got here just in time, son. We may have to move elsewhere in a hurry."

"They aren't moving," another Terror noticed. "They're probably asleep. That's what most big dragons do at night. I think."

"What happens when they wake up?" his sister asked nervously.

"Okay, we need facts before we panic," he decided. "I need two volunteers to scout that meadow."

"You mean... you aren't going to pick two of us and force us to do the dangerous stuff?" His sister was amazed.

Terror-white shook his head firmly. "That's how Terror-salty did things, but it was never my style and it never will be. Do I have any volunteers?" Two young Terrors hesitantly glided up to hover in front of him.

"Okay, here's what I want you to do," he instructed them. "I want one of you to come in from the east, and the other from the west, a little higher than the height of a giant-dragon formation. I want you to glide, not flap, so they can't hear you. Make one pass each, make note of what you see, then get out of there and report to me. I want to know if they're really dragons, what types they are, and how old you think they are. If they try to chase you, hide in the trees; you can report to me later. Stay safe. Are you ready? Okay, move out!" He turned to the other dragons. "While you're waiting, you might as well do a little fishing to help pass the time. Stay close to the island."

Ten minutes later, the two scouts returned. "Do you have good news or bad news?" Terror-white asked them.

"We have bad news and worse news," the first scout said. "Those are dragons, all right. Adults, all of them. There's a Nightmare, a Gronckle, a Nadder, a Zippleback, and something black that neither of us have ever seen before."

"Black and red," the other scout corrected him. "It had a tail that was half-black and half-red, with some kind of white markings."

"I may have seen that one before," the Alpha thought out loud. "Were they asleep?"

"Sound asleep," the first scout nodded. "None of them noticed us passing overhead."

"Okay, that part sounds like good news," Terror-white said. "But you said you had worse news. What could be worse than dragons on our island?"

"Humans on our island," the second scout said flatly.

_"Humans?!"_ half the flock echoed.

"With the dragons?" Terror-white demanded.

"They were all asleep together," the first scout said. "There were five or six of them; it was hard to tell for sure in the dark, and we didn't want to stick around and count them."

"They were asleep together?" the Alpha pressed them. "Are you sure of that?"

"Positive," said the second scout flatly. "Some of them were sleeping on the ground next to their dragons, and one or two were leaning right up against them. We couldn't get any more details without flying lower, and you told us not to do that."

"You did the right thing," their Alpha nodded. "Now I have to decide what this means."

"It means we have to get out of here before they find us!" someone said nervously.

"No, don't panic," he ordered. "For one thing, five dragons isn't that big a threat; we can scare them away if they get too close. For another thing, all of those dragon types like their fish as much as we do; they wouldn't eat other dragons unless they were desperate."

"How do you know they aren't desperate?" his mother asked.

"Because they have humans among them," he replied, slowly gaining confidence as he thought it through. "Normally, humans and dragons get along about as well as we get along with the Changewings. If they're all asleep together, that means they're doing something peaceful together, and desperate dragons don't do anything peaceful, ever! I don't know what they're doing here, but I can say for sure that they aren't hunting Night Terrors."

"How do dragons and humans do anything peaceful together?" his father wondered.

"I admit, that's a mystery to me, too," Terror-white said. "We need more information, but I'm not ready to risk them finding us just so we can figure out what they're planning. If they leave soon, it won't matter; if they stay, we'll have time to learn more about them without running any risks."

"So what should we do now?" his future mate asked.

"We'll keep an eye on them," he decided. "At this point, we don't even know if they're here to stay. Those are all daylight-loving dragons, except maybe the black one, so they may just be passing through. Maybe they'll stay here for the night and they'll move on in the morning. If they stay, then we'll try scaring them away. If we need more of a plan than that, all I can say is, I don't think well on an empty stomach. I'm hungry, and I suspect that most of you are, too. Let's go find some fishies!" The flock had no problem obeying that suggestion. They ate their fill and retired to the trees as the sun came up.

The intruders didn't move on, but they gave the Terrors no troubles that day. Terror-white made sure to send a volunteer to peek at their visitors every few hours. The dragons mostly slept, while the humans appeared to be mostly interested in fighting each other. One human walked right underneath the trees where several Night Terrors were resting, but he didn't see them; evidently he wasn't looking in trees. Judging how he repeatedly fell off cliffs, he wasn't looking at much else, either. Terror-white mentally cataloged him as "mostly harmless" and went about his duties.

There were a _lot_ of duties! He'd never realized how often an Alpha dragon had to break up fights, or mediate disagreements over the best fishing areas and the best sleeping spots. His training had mostly been about controlling the flock as a whole, and creating formations for self-protection. Now he was responsible for every detail of leadership, the large ones and the small ones, and he was starting to have second thoughts about accepting the role of Alpha. But the flock needed him. Quitting was not an option. He stuck it out and maintained the peace as best he could.

That night was a different story. As the flock roused themselves and prepared for a busy night's fishing, someone noticed two winged shapes headed their way. "One of them is that Zippleback!" his sister exclaimed.

"No, the shape is wrong," his father corrected her. "It has two big bumps on its necks. Zipplebacks don't have bumps like those."

"Whatever they are, we need to scare them away," Terror-white decided. "Get ready for a formation!" All the Night Terrors dropped whatever they were doing and waited for their Alpha's command.

He watched the unknown dragons approaching. They flew straight and level; they didn't seem to be searching for anything. That was good. But they couldn't be allowed to stay on this island; this place was too perfect to surrender it to a handful of enemies who might not even know his flock was here. Well, they were about to find out.

"Ready... ready... _now!"_ He sent his thought out to the flock, and they responded perfectly. Their "giant dragon" leaped into the air, did a fast spin, and took off toward the meadow, barely missing the intruders.

Terror-white got a good look at those intruders as they whipped past. "Those bumps on the dragons' backs and necks... those are the _humans!_ The humans are _riding_ those dragons!"

"Humans don't ride dragons!" his mother protested. "And dragons don't let humans ride them!"

"Your mother is right," his father added from halfway across the formation. "That's totally unheard-of."

"I know what I saw," Terror-white said firmly. "But it doesn't change anything. We still don't want them here." He looked around him at all the dragons, each a free-willed individual and yet all of them obeying his commands. The speed at which they were all flying, the way they all followed his orders... it was intoxicating. When he wanted their formation to flap its wings, they flapped; when he wanted them to swerve, they swerved. The whole flock had become an extension of his will. For the first time, he understood the temptations that had led Terror-salty down the wrong path. But those temptations held no allure for him. A good Alpha was unselfish, always placing the welfare of the flock ahead of his own benefit. Right now, the welfare of the flock meant he had to keep them looking like a big, scary-looking dragon.

Then he looked back. "The intruders! They're still chasing us! We didn't scare them at all."

"Now _that's_ unheard-of," Terror-ate-a-moth called from back in the formation's tail.

"We need to try something different," he decided. "We're headed for the place where the other dragons are waiting; if we keep going, they could sandwich us. The formation is about to turn, stop, and roar! Ready... _now!"_ Again the Night Terrors obeyed his will. Their individual voices weren't much more than squeaks, but when a hundred or more of them squeaked at once, perfectly synced by their Alpha, their voices became one low, menacing bellow. Would this be enough to deter their pursuers?

No, it wouldn't. The Zippleback kept coming! It was going to ram into them! Had he been wrong about the intruders not eating Night Terrors? To save his dragons from an impending collision, Terror-white let the formation collapse. Tiny black dragons scattered and flew everywhere, but none of them collided with the onrushing Zippleback, or with the black-and-red dragon that held back for some reason.

"Come back! Re-form the formation!" Terror-white shouted desperately. This formation had never failed in all the history of the Night Terrors... until tonight. Was he doing something wrong? Had he forgotten an important detail from his early training? He was out of ideas - curse his inexperience! He'd try to form one more giant dragon and hope that this one worked better.

There was no problem with the formation, or with his dragons' obedience. It took a few seconds to gather all the scattered Night Terrors, but they willingly took up their places in the formation once more. Terror-ate-a-moth wound up in the head this time, almost right next to him. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked him.

"Just keep your place and - LOOK OUT!" The Zippleback was coming at them again... with a net! He couldn't dodge the dragon without releasing his control over the formation, and in the moment it took for him to decide which of the two was more important, he'd been caught. His concentration was broken as he tried to escape; the formation collapsed into a confused, unguided cloud. He struggled uselessly against the tough mesh cords of the net. Why had the humans done this? Were they going to feed him to their dragons? Did they want his flock leaderless for some reason? "Let me go!" he squealed. "My flock needs me!" Both the dragon and the humans ignored him.

Behind him, the human on the black dragon made some sounds that the white dragon couldn't understand. "I don't know about you, bud, but I've got a bad feeling about this."

The Zippleback flew back to their encampment and dropped him (none too gently) onto the ground. He resumed struggling, but it was useless. Four of the humans surrounded him, speaking their incomprehensible language with no overtones, but too many consonants. After some discussion, the one with four horns said something that included the sound "Smidvarg," and they all looked at him. Was "Smidvarg" their name for a white Night Terror? What difference did it make if his flock was leaderless again? He stopped struggling and glared at his captors.

Then he heard a chilling sound. It was the sound of Night Terrors screeching in distress, accompanied by a lower bellow that could only be the hunting call of a Changewing. More bellows resounded; the screeching rose in volume. He fought desperately to get free of the net. "Let me go!" he begged. "Please! They really need me now!" The humans ignored him. One of them made the "Smidvarg" sound again. After a few seconds, they all climbed onto the backs of their dragons and flew away toward the sounds of the fight, leaving him alone in the meadow.

Terror-white sank to the ground, closed his eyes, and wept for the little dragons who were about to die. He felt like he'd let them down somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Smidvarg** Chapter 4

Terror-white had resumed his useless struggle against the weighted net that held him prisoner. He could hear the dragons of his flock screaming in terror, and he could hear the bellows of the Changewings that were hunting that flock... and there was not a single thing he could do about it. It was his job to protect the flock by gathering them into defensive formations. But the humans and the intruding dragons had captured him and taken him away, for reasons he could not fathom, and now he was helpless in his flock's darkest hour.

Then he saw motion. The black dragon was back, with its human rider. What new horrors awaited him? The human leaped off the dragon's back, ran awkwardly over to him, and... removed the net! He sprang into the air, but not before turning to the human and screaming, "If _anything_ happens to _any_ of my dragons, I'll take it out of _your_ soft pink hide!" Then he was off like a shot, headed for the sounds of his flock in distress. They needed their Alpha. They needed him!

He didn't get a hundred feet before he needed help himself. Two Changewings materialized out of nowhere and closed in on him with a scissors move. One quickly got hit by a fire shot of some kind and gave up the chase. A fire shot? Was the black dragon helping him now? That shot couldn't have come from anywhere else. But he didn't have time to analyze the situation; the other Changewing was too close, and getting closer. One quick bite, and...

That bite never happened. The Zippleback with the two riders shot a green gas cloud toward them, and ignited it just as the Changewing flew into it. Yes, somehow, the intruding dragons were helping him now. The male Zippleback rider shouted something that had the "Smidvarg" sound in it. Terror-white turned and watched the smoldering Changewing turn tail and flee. The humans had a quick meeting of some kind, then spun and headed for the Night Terror flock. He raced in the same direction, with the black dragon in front and the two-headed dragon behind him. If they changed their minds again and turned on him, he was powerless to do anything about it. But if he didn't trust them, he'd never get back to his flock in time. His need to protect his dragons overrode any fears for his own safety.

It looked like the other intruder dragons had been trying to defend his flock, with mixed results. They had gotten the Changewings' minds off of eating Night Terrors, but now the color-changers were attacking the intruders instead. One after another, his erstwhile allies went down, the victims of mid-air collisions or near-collisions. Three of them lay sprawled on the ground now, stunned and helpless as the chameleon carnivores closed in on them.

He reached his flock, which hadn't dispersed but was still swarming in mid-air. "I'm back!" he shouted.

"How did you escape from them?" his father demanded.

"They let me go," he answered quickly. When his father was about to ask him more, he added, "There's no time to go into details. We've got to get ready for a giant-dragon formation, quickly!"

"No, we need to get _out_ of here!" his mother tried to correct him. "The Changewings are distracted by those other dragons; we need to hide while we have the chance."

"We can't," Terror-white shot back. "Those other dragons and humans are helpless. We need to help them."

_"Help_ them?" Terror-ate-a-moth squeaked. "They kidnapped you! They left us defenseless! We don't owe them anything! Your mother is right. Let the big dragons fight it out while we make ourselves scarce."

"She's right!" his sister added urgently. "You're still new at being an Alpha. Listen to your flock! We need to escape while we can. Those humans and their dragons are no better for us than the Changewings. You need to say, 'Go-go Gadget wings' and get us _out_ of here!"

"No," he said firmly. "I don't pretend to know what's going through the minds of those humans, or the dragons they're riding. But we do owe them something. They've saved my life from those Changewings twice tonight. Now _we'll_ save _them_. Formation, get ready... _now!"_

Once again, the little black dragons turned themselves into one huge black dragon. They swooped down en masse toward two Changewings that were about to pounce on two of the humans. "Roar!" the white Alpha commanded, and the huge faux-dragon bellowed at them. "Roar again!" and they roared at the Changewings once more. Those dragons went wide-eyed at the sight of the formation, turned, and flew for their lives. The others took off right after them. The threat was over.

The black dragon and his rider made a quick circle around their formation without doing anything hostile. The Night Terrors let them go, watching them very closely but not trying to frighten them. Terror-white squeaked, "Nice teamwork!" at them. Of course, they couldn't understand him. The big dragons spoke a language of their own, and the humans... there was no communicating with them at all. Was there?

He took stock of his situation. The flock had lost two dragons, both in the early stages of the attack, before he'd gotten there. That upset him. But it wasn't nearly as bad as the price they'd usually pay if a big flock of Changewings got the drop on the flock, so he didn't feel like he owed the humans any payback for pulling him away from the fight at the worst possible moment. Neither of the lost dragons was anyone he knew.

"Nicely done, son," his father admitted. "Especially because you're still new around here. But the Changewings were only half of the problem. Now that they're gone, what are you going to do about those humans and the dragons they ride?"

"Good question," his mother added. "We can't share this island with them. One of us has to go."

Terror-white thought for a moment. "Why does one group have to leave? It's a big island. Why can't we share it with them?"

"Because they'll _eat_ us!" his sister blurted out. "Duh!"

"Did they eat any of us tonight?" he asked pointedly.

"Well..." his father said, and then paused. "Now that you mention it, no, they didn't."

"They spent all their time fighting off the Changewings," Terror-ate-a-moth admitted. "I didn't see them even try to take a bite out of one of us."

"That's what I thought," Terror-white said. "I can't guess why, but they seem to be on our side now. We'd be fools to turn away allies like that, especially with Changewings in the neighborhood."

"But they kidnapped you with a net!" his mother protested.

"I think that was some kind of a misunderstanding," he replied. "They let me go afterwards, and they haven't tried to catch me again since then. They even protected me when the Changewings tried to eat me. They helped us, and then we helped them. I think they'll do it again if we don't antagonize them. Let's try coexisting with them instead. It's not how Night Terrors usually live, but I think it will be for the best."

"Terror-pale-blue never would have tried such a harebrained scheme," his father muttered.

"Dad, Terror-pale-blue isn't the Alpha here," he said firmly. _"I am!"_ His family members started back at the sudden intensity in his voice. He went on, "I'm willing to try sharing the island with these humans and their dragons. I don't know what the rules are for sharing an island, but do you know what? I don't think they know, either. We'll all make it up as we go along."

"What if they eat all our fish?" his sister asked worriedly.

"Five dragons couldn't eat all those fish if they worked at it for their whole lives," he answered. "I can't see any reason to fear them. To be honest, after seeing them fight, I think they need our protection as much as we need theirs. We'll all benefit from this arrangement. We can frighten away invaders better than they can, and they're better at close-range fighting than we are. There are plenty of fish in the sea to feed all of us. I have no idea what humans eat, but even if it's something we need, six of them won't eat much of it. I say, let's give it a try."

"How are you going to tell _them_ that they're welcome here?" Terror-ate-a-moth asked. It sounded like a sincere question, not a challenge. That was a nice change.

"I guess that will be my responsibility to figure out," he decided. "In fact, I think I have an idea already..."

**o**

A few nights later, he led the whole flock to the edge of the humans' encampment. "They'll probably call me, seeing how they have a name for me," he said to them. "Stay out of sight until I call for you; then we'll do what I suggested."

"What if they turn hostile?" his sister asked.

"I really think they won't," he said. "I don't have a good reason why; it's just a feeling. But it's a strong feeling."

A few minutes later, they heard the thin young man shout, "Smidvarg!"

"That's my call," he announced, flew straight up into the humans' view, did several fast spins, and landed on a man-made wooden perch that was perfectly sized for Night Terror feet. That was thoughtful of them, and it confirmed his belief that they wanted to coexist. He squeaked at them; they made some human noises back at him, but there were no more signs of hostility. It looked like he'd guessed right about them. The humans exchanged some more human sounds, but nothing much was happening. It was time.

"Let's try out our new formation!" he shouted. "Night Terrors, make your entrance!" and he sent out his thought. The hundreds of Night Terrors in his new flock flew up the way he had done, but they appeared one by one, and each one flew a loop around the black dragon, who watched with a delighted expression. Once most of them were in the air, he flew up and shouted, "New dragon formation, ready... _now!"_ It took more concentration on his part than usual because the flock had never made this formation before, but they came through like champs. They spiraled up and formed into the shape of the black dragon, only many times larger, with himself as its eye. The Night Fury watched from the ground and let out a string of happy roars.

"I think that will tell them that we aren't mad at them, and they're welcome to stay on our island," the Alpha said, satisfied. The formation rose straight upwards, then broke up and scattered on his command. They had sent their message; now it was fishing time.

"I have a few questions, if you don't mind," Terror-ate-a-moth asked him as they searched for a school of fish.

"Ask away," he replied. "I don't keep secrets from the dragons in my flock."

"Okay, question number one: why did we make a formation like that black dragon?"

"The black dragon is the one who saved my life the first time," the white Terror answered, "and his rider is the one who let me out of the net. I don't know if those two are the leaders or not, but they are definitely the nicest ones. We copied that one to say, 'We like that one. We like the way he treats us. If the rest of you treat us that way, then we'll like you, too.' I don't speak his language, but he seemed to approve."

"That makes sense," she agreed. "Second question: what's going to happen to that Alpha Terror you left behind... what was his name? Terror-Salty?"

"Nothing good," he decided after a moment. "He's holding onto what's left of his flock by sheer will power. That means he'll probably lose a few dragons every time he falls asleep, unless he changes his ways and starts treating his dragons better. His flock is none too big as it is; it will soon be too small to make any kind of formation, and that will be the end of him. The dragons who get away from him will wander for a while, but hopefully, they'll find this island and join us."

"What if _he_ wanders and finds this island, and then tries to take over the flock from you again?" she asked.

"Good luck with that!" he said firmly. "The dragons in this flock are already under my influence. He can't use his own Alpha power on you; none of you will obey him as long as I'm in charge. If he challenged me to a fight for dominance, I'd never pull any unfair tricks like he did, but I might say something like, 'Any of you who don't want a selfish, power-mad Alpha, feel free to chase him away.' Most of the dragons in this flock already know what he's like and how he'd treat them. I think that would be the end of _that_ challenge in a matter of moments."

"I'll agree with that," she nodded. "And my third question might not seem very important, but... just before we made the new formation, how did you know the humans were calling you?"

"It's because they used my name in their language," he said. "My new name, that is. We're making a lot of changes around here, and one of those changes is that I'm not going to answer to 'Terror-white' anymore. I've gotten tired of always being reminded about how different I am from everybody else. From now on, as a sign of the new way we're doing things, everyone on the island will call me by the same name, regardless of which language they speak. I am now Smidvarg!"

"Smidvarg?" she asked. "That's not a dragon-language word! What does it mean?"

"It means," he said with a smile, "that the humans, the big dragons, and the Night Terrors are going to write a brand-new story on this island together. None of us knows how it will finish. But it's got a great beginning."

_THE END_


End file.
